


Ya want em dead, I'll make em dead

by tealeyedbeing



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, a guy gets stabbed so there's some blood, aka called the Demon Hitman AU on my computer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealeyedbeing/pseuds/tealeyedbeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you wanted somebody dead, and the justice system just isn't doing it for you, would you call the number? 000-000-0051.  The price is pretty cheap actually, since this devil in particular really only wants your money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ya want em dead, I'll make em dead

**Author's Note:**

> Behold! A lot of dialogue masquerading as phone calls, with Shirosaki being a demonic flirt, & Ichigo and Grimmjow both being very done with him for very different reasons.  
> I haven't slept yet so I've got a little sleep-deprived courage so I'm posting things I usually wouldn't but it's not like they're going anywhere else so might as well attempt to share them!  
> Feedback is always appreciated <3

It's an unusual business card, in that it's reverse in coloring to the typical type, black cardstock with white font. There's no name on it though, nor location of business. All that adorns it is a series of numbers: 000-000-0051. The woman who'd pressed it into Ichigo's hand hadn't explained anything about it, but something about her intense stare as she'd done it lingered on the edge of Ichigo's mind as he flipped the odd card between his fingers. He thought back to the reason he'd been sent out to her place, to inform the grieving mother that her daughter's killer had turned up with his neck snapped. She'd been strangely calm to the news, as if she'd been expecting it or heard it before, but to Ichigo's knowledge he would've been the first to bring her the news. This led him to question whether she'd taken matters into her own hands when the police hadn't been able to arrest the suspect, and that's when she'd handed him the card. She'd closed the door on him after that, leaving him unable to question her further, and leaving him thinking it was similar to a confession.

Ichigo hadn't brought the unusual behavior or card up to his superior's attention upon return to the station. Accusing a mother of hiring a hitman to avenge her daughter wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, especially not when the chief considered it a case closed with the killer found dead. It was only after he'd been found dead that they'd found evidence that would've otherwise convicted him at all. If he'd remained alive, they wouldn't have had a case. The mother might've known that, and wasn't willing to wait for the killer to slip up and take another daughter from the community, hence the calling card she'd passed over to Ichigo upon his suspicion. And while Ichigo certainly didn't want to put a mother in prison, the fact was that she'd probably hired a professional to enact revenge on her behalf, and he potentially held the way to contact a serial murderer in his hand. He needed to follow up these suspicions with evidence before he brought it up to the chief.  

000-000-0051. It was in the format of a phone number on a business type card, but with that many zeroes it shouldn't be able to connect. Still, it was the first option Ichigo could think of to try. When the phone dial rang an error, he'd try other methods to find out what the numbers meant. With a sigh that his job was far more complicated than he'd wanted to believe when he was younger, the orange haired officer input the number into his cell and raised it to his ear. To his surprise, the dial tone actually rang and he sat up straight in his chair when the other end picked up on the third ring.

 _"Shirosaki speaking, ya want em dead, I'll make em dead."_

It was a male voice, young, though it echoed oddly like the other was talking in a cavernous room. He was also absurdly cheerful, cracking a joke to what he did as opposed to a cold-hearted killer who wanted to keep his contracts professional and impersonal. This indicated that killing wasn't just a job to him; he got paid to do what he enjoyed. This was a sadist who ran the perfect business.

 _"Don' be shy,"_ The voice continued playfully when Ichigo didn't answer for a minute. _"It's th' first time fer all o' m' clients. M'not gonna judge if yer nervous about makin' a contract."_

Ichigo swallowed, not having expected the call to actually go through and connect to an actual hitman. He was unprepared. He had no way set up to track the call, didn't know whether to pose as a client to set up a trap for the hitman, or confess that he was a cop and risk getting hung up on and lose contact with a killer. The chief would be on his ass either way once they heard about this in the morning. There was no good way out of this scenario.

 _"Look sugar,"_ The hitman, Shirosaki as he'd introduced himself, continued after another silent minute when Ichigo was scrambling with what to say. _"Either call me back once ya've made up yer mind, or pass m' card along t' th' next person who needs it. I've gotta business t' run yanno, m'not gonna sit 'round waitin' for ya t' find yer voice."_

"R-Right, sorry." Ichigo said hurriedly before the other could hang up on him prematurely. It did give him the option to set up and be prepared for a next time, and he didn't want the hitman to not answer his call next time thinking it was a waste of time. He'd lose a valuable lead.

 _"Oh ya_ do _have a voice."_ Shirosaki purred happily. _"Well handsome, ya got a name I can jot down fer later maybe?"_

"Ichigo." He blurted out instinctively, then audibly slapped a hand to his face at the foolish admittance to his real name. Just because he was flustered didn't excuse being stupid about giving out very real information to a professional murderer. "I-I mean-"

Silvery laughter cut off his stammering. _"Don' fret it, precious, client privacy is a specialty o' mine. Fake name or not, I don' kiss an' tell. So how bout it? Ya feelin' up t' makin' business now, or gonna take tha' rain check for later?"_

"Rain check," Ichigo admitted sheepishly, the fact he was feeling genuinely embarrassed adding to his believability. "Until later, S-Shirosaki." The unfamiliar name stuttered on his tongue as he dropped it, checking whether it was still accurate or not.

He wasn't corrected. _"Until later, Ichigo."_ A subtle click ended the unexpectedly stressful call, and Ichigo dropped the phone into his lap with a slump of disbelief.

~x~

The chief of police hadn't been very gentle with Ichigo the following morning, as expected, but by that afternoon had set up a technical analyst to trace the call and collaborated Ichigo's backstory on why he was calling and who he wanted killed. Hopefully, they wouldn't get that far as Ichigo tried to pry information and stall for as long as he could so the trace pinpointed the hitman's location without actually putting anyone under the metaphorical guillotine. 

Ichigo took a deep breath, and with a nod from both the chief and analyst to indicate that they were ready as well, he made the second call.

Shirosaki picked up on the third ring, just like last time. _"Shirosaki speaking, ya want em dead, I'll make em dead."_

The chief arched a brow at the correlation to Ichigo's explanation, but remained silent to allow Ichigo to answer. "Yeah, it's me again."

_"Hey, Ichigo, right? Ya sure got yer nerves back fast, middle o' th' day too."_

"Is that unusual?" Ichigo asked, grateful that Shirosaki hadn't dived straight into business upon recognizing his voice. This would allow for the trace to be more accurate the longer Ichigo could distract the hitman from establishing a contract.

Shirosaki hummed, a short cheerful note that arched the chief's brows for a second time. _"Sorta, most people are too nervous bout callin' t' have somebody killed, tha' they'll only call when it's dark out, like ya did las' night. Th' only people who call me durin' th' day are usually real angry an' want immediate results so they don' care about waitin', but now yer real calm instead."_

"And what does that tell you?" Ichigo asks, sharing a weighted look with the police chief, since both of them have an idea of what the hitman's about to say next.

_"Tha' tells me last night was a surprise, an' ya weren' expectin' it t' pick up at all. I get tha' a lot, but most know wha' they're callin' for anyways. Ya didn'. A few take a rain check too, but they're still jus' as nervous when they call back th' second time. Tha' tells me, m' dear Ichigo, tha' m' card likely fell into th' hands of a cop."_

The chief mouthed Plan B and circled a finger to indicate Ichigo should continue to draw out the trace despite the change in plans.

Ichigo sighed in half-meant defeat, loudly enough so that it'd go over the line. "I take it that this has happened before then?"

Shirosaki hums again, just as cheerfully as before. His confidence hasn't wavered in the slightest. _"Once or twice. I'd tell ya don' bother wit' th' trace, but tha' won' stop ya from tryin' anyways. Sup to anyone else listenin' in too, s'good t' meetcha."_

Prior experience indicated that they should move onto Plan C if a trace wouldn't work- to keep Shirosaki talking for as long as they could to get as much information out of him as possible.

"Alright," Ichigo began slowly, resting his elbows on the table. "If you know I'm a cop and we're trying to trace you, why keep talking? Why not hang up?" Some just liked to taunt the police for as long as they could, too arrogant to believe they'd give anything substantial enough away that would lead to an arrest. "You didn't like me wasting your time last night, what's changed?"

 _"Cops are fun."_ Shirosaki explained simply, infuriatingly. It was a game to him. _"They try so hard, but always ask th' same questions an' try th' same things. Last one who got m' card was so mad, thought I was tryin' t' do his job th' wrong way, was cute. Never came close, ya won' either."_

Arrogance was something Ichigo had always despised in people, and he doubted that'd ever change. 

_"Reminds me though,"_ Shirosaki continued without waiting for Ichigo to respond. _"T' put a new card out in th' market, since ya'll be keepin' tha' one off th' streets now."_

"You will be caught." Ichigo says shortly as the analyst shakes their head, confirming the trace is as undetectable as Shirosaki'd implied. "If not by us, then by somebody somewhere. You won't do this forever."

_"Ooh realism, not idealism. Ya don' lean on false promises like so many people out there. I like tha' bout ya, Ichigo. Now, as much as I've been enjoyin' this, it's gettin' t' be tha' time fer m' usual calls t' come in, an' gotta keep th' line clear. Until later, Ichigo."_

And the call disconnected before Ichigo could get another word in edgewise. The chief consolingly patted Ichigo's shoulder and sighed themselves. Shirosaki hadn't given them much to go on, just that he was incredibly intelligent, got clients to call in late at night usually, and that he hadn't been caught by police before. The chief would make a few carefully worded calls around, asking any other heads if they'd had contact with this Shirosaki before and could give them anything more to go on. In the meantime, unfortunately, they would need to bring in the mother who'd given Ichigo the card for questioning. So much for a clean close to a busy week. 

~x~

_"Shirosaki speaking, ya want em dead, I'll make em dead."_

"Do you always answer like that?"

_"Ichigo, darlin', yer callin' m' work number, o'course I do. If ya wanna take this relationship t' th' next level an' get m' personal number, then we gotta set up a date."_

"Would you even come if I did?"

_"O'course I would, sugar, s'all part o' th' contract. But ya don' want anybody dead, so it's never gonna happen. Sadly, I guess we're stuck on th' professional level."_

"It's been two months, Shirosaki. Fourteen people dead, and that's just what we've accounted for with clients who admitted to hiring you. There's no telling how many more are out there, or how many more there's yet to come."

_"I do good work, an' th' job never ends. Yanno how people are, bein' a cop an' all."_

"Somebody always has to die. What I don't get is who decided that the executioner had to be you."

_"Everybody who calls me decided tha'. Doesn' everybody always say, get a job tha' ya'll love, anyways? Well, I love doin' this, an' m' real good at it. Don' they also say, make people happy? I think m' doin' a fair job o' tha' too."_

"You're sick."

_"Mmm heard tha' b'fore, meant both ways. D'ya mean it both ways too, Ichigo? Ya became a cop cuz yer a good guy, an' wanna help people. D'ya wanna try helpin' even me? Ya think there's somethin' wrong wit' me?"_

"Yes, I do."

_"Tha's too bad, really. We coulda had somethin' 'ere."_

~x~

_"Shirosaki speaking, ya want em dead, I'll make em dead."_

"...really?"

_"Really really, sugar. Wanna make a contract?"_

"Yes, I do, absolutely. I want you to-"

_"Slow down, honey, we'll get there, trust me. First we gotta get th' particulars outta th' way, alright?"_

"Particulars? Like what?"

_"Well first off, ya know m' name already. Wha's yers?"_

"What does that matter? All you want is money right?"

_"M'not some gangbanger, sugar. When I said contract, I meant it. If ya got a problem sharin' yer name, then use a fake one, but I need a name."_

"Fine, J.J."

_"Cute. Nice t' meetcha, J.J. Now, standard fee is one thousand per kill, standard death delivered is a snapped neck. Can ya afford th' baseline?"_

"Yes, but I want-"

_"M' gettin' there, J.J., patience. Particulars are one hundred extra, each. Tha' means if ya want em killed in some other way than a snapped neck, then it's one thousand an' one hundred dollars. Follow me?"_

"Yes, I follow. So if I wanted you to stab him to death, then retrieve something of mine, it'd be one thousand two hundred?"

_"Exactly, sugar. Cash. I don' do paper trails. It doesn' need t' be immediate, there's no deadline as long as ya stay outta prison. Then I'll need payment some other way, followin'?"_

"Yes, I understand. How would I get the money to you?"

_"I'll call ya back at this number once th' job's done t' arrange a meetin' place. Ya bring th' cash, I'll bring proof tha' it's done, free o' charge. Hope yer not too squeamish."_

"W-what kind of proof?"

_"Jus' a picture, unless ya want somethin' extra. Tha' counts as a particular though, extra hundred."_

"N-no, a picture is fine."

_"Then tha's all there is t' it, J.J. Any other questions?"_

"No, I don't have any."

_"Then tell me wha' ya want, sugar."_

"I want you to kill a man named Dufont, he's here on a business trip from Iceland for a week. I want him stabbed, it doesn't matter where, just that he bleeds out slowly and dies helpless to stop it. I want you to find a gold necklace that he should have- a J, in crystals, and bring it back to me. That's all I want."

_"Total price is exactly one thousand two hundred like ya'd figured earlier. Ready t' seal th' deal?"_

"Wait, that's all you needed to know? I didn't even..."

_"Trust me, sugar, m' real good at wha' I do. If tha's all ya know, then tha's all I need. Ya got a preferred date fer when Dufont dies?"_

"No, I don't care, just before he leaves Japan again. I want to know he died here just like my-... just before next Sunday. That's all."

_"Alright, J.J., it's a done deal. Dufont is a dead man. All I need is fer ya t' repeat after me."_

"Okay... I'm ready."

 _"Say,_ Shirosaki, I, J.J., strike a contract with you. Deliver death on my behalf. _Guady I know, but I didn' make th' rules._ "

"Wait, what kind of deal is this? You make it sound like some devil's contract."

_"It is, sugar, but all this devil wants is cash. If ya know tha' much bout contracts, then ya should know th' terms are binding. Nothin' else will be taken from ya but th' money. It's not good business t' kill clients after all, I'd never get hired again. Yer safe from me a' least, J.J. Still wanna take th' risk?"_

"...Yes, I do. Dufont will die. What do I say again?"

_"Shirosaki, I, J.J., strike a contract with you. Deliver death on my behalf."_

"Shirosaki, I, J.J., strike a contract with you. Deliver death on my behalf."

_"Perfect, J.J., a pleasure doin' business wit' ya. Keep this phone nearby, I'll call ya back soon. Until then, sugar."_

"G-goodbye, Shirosaki."

~x~

Dufont is a large man, tall and imposingly wide with specifically tailored suits to emphasize the power held within his frame. He's the CEO of some Icelandic company, used to always getting what he wants, and usually through force. His company has a shady underbelly as a result, one that subtly threatens coercion if necessary when deals fall through due to personal tensions. Upon immediately laying eyes on the man, Shirosaki can tell why J.J. would want this man rendered helpless. He's actually kind of surprised he hasn't been called to deliver death upon Dufont before now. The man undoubtedly had lived through assassination attempts before if his behavior and entourage indicated anything, but Shirosaki's name was just beginning to really spread among all the class levels of society, and no one was remotely like him anywhere.

Shirosaki whistles as he spins in the marble lobby of the classy upjoint hotel lobby, and nobody pays him any attention despite the fact he should obviously stand out for his appearance. It's certainly an impressive building, fit for someone confident enough that they'll get away with anything and everything just because they have money and power. People like Dufont were especially enjoyable to kill, because they believed themselves invincible, right up until the point they realized all their brawn was useless and they wouldn't emerge triumphant again. It was the sweetest victory.

The elevator is so polished the golden tinted metal acts like a mirror, and Shirosaki can't help but indulge the urge to primp a little on the long ride up to the top floor. His long white hair is pulled up into a casual tail, feathery locks left framing his face in a controlled mess. It was cool outside, and his black hoodie was stretched at the throat to show off his collarbones while the sleeves nearly covered up his similarly painted nails. White shorts hug his hips, the embroidered hem on his upper thighs just barely visible underneath the hoodie's bottom. A scant inch of bare flesh is revealed before his black woolen thigh high stockings start, elongating the length of his legs. His ankle boots are white, the heels tall enough to be considered plenty feminine, with it thick enough not to cause spindly wobbling. Satisfied that he looked as flawless as he'd started out that morning, Shirosaki stepped out of the elevator onto the lush carpet of the hallway.

No one else was even on this floor, but two men in meticulous suits still stood guard outside Dufont's room door. Shirosaki waved cheekily at their unblinking eyes as he stepped up and turned the handle, simply walking in past the deadbolt, chain, and locks as if they hadn't been in place at all. The CEO in question looks up with a deep frown at the unexpected entrance. He'd given explicit direction not to be disturbed, and hadn't been expecting anyone, much less this unusually pale man in feminine attire. He stands aggressively, ringed fists tight at his sides as Shirosaki leans coyly back against the door he'd just shut.

"Hello, Dufont, m' name's Shirosaki. On behalf of J.J., m'ere t' deliver yer death." Shirosaki informs the man sweetly. "It has been agreed tha' ya'll be stabbed, bled out, an' I'll leave wit' a necklace. If it's not 'ere, I'll find it later, but ya die t'day, Dufont. Any questions?"

Dufont laughs loudly before looking Shirosaki up then down crudely. "Sure, sweetheart. Now I see why my boys let you in, you're good for a laugh."

"M' good fer many things," Shirosaki agrees with a grin that twists his lips into a far crueler version of the smile he'd previously worn. "Particularly fulfillin' wha's asked o' me. I won' complain if ya fight though, it's hardly any fun when they jus' lay down an' accept it after all, as m' sure ya'll agree."

Dufont laughs again, though this one is noticeably more forced and less genuine than the last. He's gotten irritated, but still disbelieves that Shirosaki can inflict any harm. Appearances can be deceiving and all that. He makes a show out of stripping his suit jacket and loosening his tie, leering as he unpins his cuffs and folds up his sleeves. "The things I'm gonna do to that mouth of yours, bitch."

Sexual threats and gendered slurs, typical of men like Dufont. Along with the necklace J.J. asked for, Shirosaki can easily guess what crime Dufont committed to warrant this contract. Turning the tables against a man like this is a part of his job that Shirosaki so dearly enjoys. It's a real pity J.J. only wanted him stabbed once and Shirosaki can't enjoy beating the ever living snot out of this man. Doing anything other than inflicting one fatal stab wound would be violating the contract and rendering him unable to accept reward, but times like this were so tempting to risk breaking the rules for a little personal pleasure. Ah but discipline was part of running a business, and reliability is what kept clients calling. Was still a pity though.

Dufont put so much muscle behind his punch, he literally throws himself to the ground when he passes through Shirosaki as if the slighter male isn't even there. He momentarily stuns himself on the carpet, then shoves himself upright and looks wildly around for his would-be victim. Shirosaki has calmly walked into the kitchen portion of the suite, dragging one painted nail along the marble countertop. He contemplatively taps the wooden block containing the steak knives.

"Ya wanna pick which one I use?" Shirosaki asks Dufont cheekily, pulling one an inch out of its sheath. "Or d'ya have one o'yer own ya'd prefer t' use instead?"

Thinking he'd merely been dodged the first time and arrogant enough to avoid calling for assistance, Dufont strides angrily into the kitchen and this time grabs for Shirosaki's arm instead of a complete lunge. He was full vision this time when his hand passes through Shirosaki, the smaller male's body distorting like smoke. Dufont recoils as though he'd actually touched something after all. A mixture of disbelief and horror war on his face as he looks at Shirosaki's smug expression, realizing for the first time the pale man has black eyes.

"No? Guess this one'll work then." Shirosaki decides as Dufont staggers backwards away from him, colliding clumsily into the fridge. He wonders if Dufont's pride will break enough to allow him to call for help, even though no one will hear him. He wonders if Dufont will run for an exit, though none will budge under his desperation. The human plane was so easy to manipulate, so few things could hold up against him. He pulls a knife free from the block, appraising it's stainless steel approvingly. Humans certainly did make pretty things, he'd give them that much.

"W-wait!" Dufont stutters, actually stutters when he realizes that Shirosaki truly is here to deliver death. "Whoever's paying you, I can give you triple!"

"Oh m'sure ya can, Dufont," Shirosaki agrees, casually tapping the flat of the knife against his fingers. "But contracts don' work like tha'. Now, m' client didn' specify where t' stab ya, would ya like t' decide tha'?" 

Dufont lunges for the door, and Shirosaki shakes his head in disappointment. Men were weak when their power was stripped away and all they had left was their guile. There were so few that could still be strong when they had nothing left. He follows calmly, almost lazily, as the frantic CEO abandons the unmoving door handle and dives for his cell phone. He skips away when Shirosaki approaches, and the dial tone never connects no matter how many different numbers he attempts. No suited men come bursting through the door when he yells their names, and there's no one outside the windows to direct help towards his floor. Dufont actually resorts to locking himself inside the bathroom.

Shirosaki clucks his tongue as he leans forward, just enough so that only his head goes through the door and disappointingly witnesses Dufont cowering in the bathtub frantically murmuring jumbled prayers. "Ya sound like ya've never read th' Bible once in yer life." He informs the terror stricken man teasingly. "How is tha' gonna save ya if ya can't even string together th' proper structure?" Dufont's disjointed prayers only increase in volume. Shirosaki offers one last torment. "Ya sure ya wanna be found in th' bathtub cowerin' like a child?"

"Please!" Dufont breaks off his biblical rambling, desperation making his eyes crazed and his knuckles white where he grips the marble's edge. "I don't wanna die!"

"Few do," Shirosaki agrees as he tucks his thumb over the end of the knife's handle. He doesn't even blink when Dufont's arm swipes through his entire chest harmlessly in a last ditch effort to repel him as Shirosaki leans forward to bury the knife solidly between Dufont's third and fourth ribs. "I'll give ya this, though. Much easier fer clean-up in th' tub."

Dufont yanks the knife free in a fit of panic as soon as Shirosaki retreats to lean against the door, the blade skittering loudly across the tile to rest against the far wall under the untouched towels. The CEO dribbles blood down his chin as his punctured lung fills up and tries to expel it even as the man tries to apply pressure to the wound to prolong his life. Shirosaki boredly picks at his nail polish as he waits for Dufont's begging to die out, just like his life. It's slow, bleeding both internally and out, but eventually Dufont sprawls dead in the tub, lifeless and nearly as pale as Shirosaki himself. Shirosaki withdraws his business phone and snaps a single picture, making sure he gets the single stab wound in clear view. A cursory search turns up the desired necklace, which Shirosaki pockets neatly. Pleased with a job well done, Shirosaki walks out just as he'd walked in- blatant yet unnoticed all the same.

~x~

"H-Hello?"

_"J.J. my dear, th' job is done. Where wouldja like t' meet? If ya don' have a place, I can come up wit' one."_

"You did, oh god you really did it! I-I saw it on the news just a few minutes ago- he's dead! They said it was just a heart attack but I knew-!"

_"Yer welcome, sugar, now th' meetin' place?"_

"Oh right, of course! The canal, under 21st street here in Osaka, you know it?"

_"I will. When?"_

"Tonight, at 9. I'll be there with all thousand two hundred dollars in cash."

_"Perfect, J.J. I'll see ya soon then."_

"Yes, absolutely!"

~x~

J.J. turns out to be a blond American woman in a borrowed business suit, though Shirosaki had guessed that from her accent over the phone. She'd dressed formally for this, probably due to habit more than anything for business transactions, but had the good sense to wear a thick fabric and a long coat to ward off the night's chill as she waited by the water. She looked around the dark nervously, hands stuck fast in her coat pockets. Shirosaki was certain one hand had a death clutch on the envelope with his payment in it, and the other was wrapped around a weapon of self-defense if the wrong person walked up to her. She jumped when Shirosaki walked into view with a brilliant smile.

"J.J. my dear, yer as lovely in person as ya are over th' phone," Shirosaki greets affectionately, sweeping down into a playfully formal bow. "Shirosaki, delighted to grace yer vision t'night." He'd dressed masculinely for this encounter, since attire held a lot of impact for humans. He'd dressed femininely for Dufont, since the CEO had disparaged women and usurping him dressed like one would have the greatest affect. J.J. would need to see an authoritative man who'd been powerful enough to murder a rapist, so dark jeans tucked into work boots and a thick coat gave him the appearance of being more muscled than he actually was and capable of hiding weapons. Really, human perception was pitifully easy to manipulate over the silliest little things.

J.J.'s flushed for a multitude of reasons: the cold, the excitement of finally attaining revenge, and a little charmed by an attractive man's grandiose gesture. She rips a carefully sealed envelope out of her left pocket, her non-dominant side and something heavy drops into the pocket of her right side coat as she offers the money to him in both hands. Shirosaki loved guessing right, it meant that all his observation of humans was paying off. 

"The payment, as promised," J.J. breathes in a gust of steam, eyes almost hungrily roam over Shirosaki's own hands. "Do you have...?"

"Th' necklace, as promised." Shirosaki mimics with a grin, similarly withdrawing his hands and uncurling one to reveal the gold chain with the crystal J charm sitting in his palm. He offers it across first as a gesture of good will, to quell whatever lingering hesitation the woman might have for making a contract with a devil. Her fingers burn warm as she reaches across to pinch it up, gasping a happy noise into the night air as she accepts a treasured momento home again.

J.J. loses herself momentarily in a memory, but comes back to herself with a jolt, pocketing the necklace protectively. She then firmly offers the thick envelope to Shirosaki again, fierce and proud. "Payment for a job well done, and my endless gratitude as well. The necklace is proof enough, and I never want to see that man's face again."

"As m' client wishes it, I gratefully accept this payment." Shirosaki intones happily as he accepts the envelope, pocketing it without bothering to count in front of her. He doubted a woman at the end of her rope and wary of devils would attempt to jip him, and appearing to trust her at her word would establish his reputation even further than an exemplary job well done alone would. He had proved he was reliable, even trustworthy to a certain extent. He would be a viable option in the future, whether for herself or anyone else she thought might need his number. Through this one job and carefully planned behavior, Shirosaki would ensure future clients.

J.J. nods in parting and doesn't offer any further exultations, merely turns and strides away now that their business is concluded. Shirosaki can appreciate a strong being of any race or gender, and she doesn't falter once in regret as she walks out of view into the dark. He nearly hopes she calls again in the future, whether for herself or somebody else, because this was an efficient contract. 

Shirosaki waits until the sound of J.J.'s heartbeat has faded into the mess surrounding the rest of the city, before allowing his body to melt into the darkness, and Grimmjow yelps and swears when Shirosaki coalesces under his feet from the man's very own shadow some hundreds of miles away from the canal.

"You motherfucking- how many times have I toldja to stop doing that creepy ass shit so close to me, huh?!" Grimmjow growls, irritably swatting the cackling devil with a well worn and slightly burnt oven mitt. "Yer just damn lucky I wasn't holding anything this time, twit."

Shirosaki swallows his lingering snickers, adopting an apologetically sweet smile and holding up the envelope as a peace offering.

One of Grimmjow's blue brows arch as he accepts the envelope, weighing it in one hand as he tosses the mitt to the counter. "Back from a job already?" He mutters as he rips open the sealed flap, roughly thumbing through the crisp bills inside. "American this time, huh? Two hundred extra looks like. Anything particularly exciting?"

"Nah," Shirosaki denies, sliding close to drape both arms around Grimmjow's solid waist and to mouth at the taller man's bared neck. "Jus' a stab an' grab. Typical alpha male gettin' cowed by a feminine figure. He even hid in the bathtub at th' end."

Grimmjow snorts disparagingly at the admission, dropping the money next to the oven mitt on the counter so he has both hands free to bury into Shirosaki's back jean pockets. "That cop been calling you lately?"

"Is tha' a lil jealousy I hear?" Shirosaki teases, leaning up onto his toes to bite at Grimmjow's bottom lip.

Grimmjow growls and bites back, distracted from properly answering for a solid seven minutes. "I'm not jealous of somebody who'll never catch what he's chasing."

Shirosaki hums as he distractedly toes off his boots, losing a valuable inch of height from the lack of heel, but it just gives him a better angle to bite at the bluenet's collarbone. "Nah, Ichigo hasn' bothered me all month, n'fact m'prolly due for a call soon actually, if he keeps t' pattern." 

Grimmjow grunts, a little from Shirosaki's enthusiastic biting and a little due to displeasure concerning Ichigo. He firmly detaches the pale devil plastered to his front and spins Shirosaki around, ignoring the other's whines. "Go sit down, I was making dinner before ya popped up like that. Ya stay in here and it'll get burned, so get."

"Spoilsport," Shirosaki mutters as he petulantly strips layers of clothing off and leaves them on the floor in a trail behind him as he goes. "Like a beef roast'll taste better than me." He sprawls dramatically across Grimmjow's couch, turning up the volume of the man's television with one lazily gestured finger.

"Don't fuck up my tv with your magic shit." Grimmjow's voice warns from the kitchen, since he knows for a fact the devil wouldn't have bothered to use the remote.

"Anythin' else, mother?" Shirosaki calls back sarcastically, a bit sour that he hadn't gotten immediate sex and instead been shooed away.

"Ya can be prepped by the time this is done in five minutes, that's what." Grimmjow's voice rumbles down the hall, his tone and word choice immediately perking Shirosaki back up.

Shirosaki's grin was slow and wicked as he wiggled out of his jeans. "I can do tha'."

~x~

_"Shirosaki speaking, ya want em dead, I'll make em dead."_

"You aren't human are you?"

_"Aw, King, ya say th' sweetest things t' me, yanno tha'?"_

"You really aren't. Nothing sticks, people don't even remember you when you're standing right in front of them, it's like you don't even exist. Nobody at the station even remembers why we have a black card with a phone number full of zeroes on it in the evidence locker, so why do I?"

_"Wouldja believe me if I said it was cuz yer special?"_

"No."

_"See tha's why ya can't get laid, sugar, ya don' play along."_

"Tell me the truth, Shirosaki."

_"I've never lied t' ya b'fore, King."_

"Why do I still remember you?"

_"Because yer fun, Ichigo. Simple as tha'."_

"You know, after I figured out that you couldn't be human, I wondered why a... whatever you are, even asked for cash of all things. You've literally walked into the highest secured places across the country without anyone batting an eyelash. You don't need money. So who are you playing sugar daddy for?"

_"See? Yer fun, King! Jus' look at yer gorgeous brain work. Ah humans can be so fascinatin' a' times, dontcha agree?"_

"What's the point of even hiding things from me? We both know you'll never be caught, so are you just protecting your lover?"

 _"M' lover, wha' a soft word for it. Pretty though, like most things ya humans make, so I rather like it. M' lover, as we'll call em from now on, can be rather jealous o' ya actually. An' as much as I'd adore t' see th' two o' ya in th' same room, I like ya both exactly where ya are, untouched."_

"You sound possessive."

_"Do I? Of who?"_

"Of your- no, I am not yours, Shirosaki."

_"Wha', I never said anythin'~!"_

"Your lover has reason to be jealous if you're unfaithful."

_"Unfaithful? Darlin' ya jus' said ya weren' mine, an' did we already ferget th' part where m' not human? Morals don' stick t' well t' sulfur jus' so yanno."_

"Do they know that?"

_"Hm a good question actually. Another reason t' keep ya'll apart. Ah ya'd be gorgeous together though, like fire underwater."_

"Are you more or less insane than others of your kind?"

_"Less, actually, helps t' figure humans out if there's fewer voices screamin' upstairs, if ya'd believe it."_

"Well I certainly don't doubt it."

_"I do so enjoy yer calls, King."_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm leaving it as a oneshot for now, but who knows, I may eventually add to it later on. Don't hold your breath though.


End file.
